


memento mori

by dizzyondreams



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: M/M, a little bit gory, not an au for once in my stupid life, not very
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-10
Updated: 2014-01-10
Packaged: 2018-01-08 06:34:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1129453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dizzyondreams/pseuds/dizzyondreams
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eren will be forever perfect, and Jean’s seventeen and his joints are wearing out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	memento mori

Sometimes Jean has to hack Eren away from his titan body, all his exposed skin burning in the searing steam coming off him. He’s red and boiled like a lobster, and Eren emerges perfect, unconscious. The only sign of the whole ordeal is the markings on his face, exotic and strange. Sometimes Jean has to cut off an arm, or a leg, if it won’t come free. He cries into Eren’s hair, because fuck, they’re practically still children and Jean is not ready to be cutting limbs off the people he loves. He cries for Eren’s severed limbs, for the friends who've died, for his mother and his little sisters, but mostly he cries for himself. In that moment of still in the middle of battle, the eye of the storm, cradling Eren’s limp, bloody body, so much smaller in unconsciousness when he’s not filled with self-righteous rage, Jean cries for himself. For the fucking idiot child who joined the Corps for the glory and the safety of the inner walls. He cries because nothing could have ever set him up for the reality of battle. No-one’s untouchable, not even beautiful, fierce Mikasa, with her scarred face. Not even Corporal Levi, Humanity’s Strongest, out of commission with a broken ankle.

Nobody but Eren, anyway.

He cries because he knows Eren’s leg will grow back, his caved-in skull. Sometimes he’s the one carrying Eren’s broken body back to the carts, and he’s in so much pain he can’t even cry, he can’t even see properly. And fuck, he’s hyperventilating, and he needs to get this head wound looked at, but Eren is basically a mess of red and bone in his arms and Jean couldn't find a pulse and the thought of Eren dying is impossible but. 

The thought of losing Eren settles like a sharp rock in his stomach. It doesn't even bear thinking about. Not after Marco. Not after his family. Eren’s all Jean has anymore. Stupid, antagonising, brave Eren.

But of course Eren lives. Limbs grow back in a cloud of steam. The crushed, pulpy mess that was supposed to be Eren’s face grows bone and skin and before long a pair of hazy green eyes are staring at Jean and pink lips are saying, “Jean, lie down, you’re okay.” And of course Jean isn't okay. He makes sure to touch Eren all over, hold his brand new hands, kiss his lips because these parts of Eren have never touched Jean before, these new pieces of him, which Jean thinks is incredibly sad. The same hands which once pressed Jean against the wall of the barracks disappeared months ago.

But he’s alive. He’s perfect. Eren’s all strong muscles moving smoothly under unmarked dark skin, and Jean’s fucking bruises have bruises. He’s blistered and bruised, marked forever, from his 3DMG. He’s scarred all over, messy, ugly scars that healed without stitches and stretch pink and ragged across his chest, his ribcage, his back. Bones healed wrong or not at all, the familiar stabbing pain of a broken rib as he inhales. Jean can’t remember a time when he’s had all ribs healed at the same time and fuck. He’s angry. He’s mad as hell. 

He punches Eren until he spits a tooth out, stark white against all that blood and a tiny part of Jean is still surprised that Eren bleeds red like the rest of them. The next time Eren is moaning around Jean’s fingers in his mouth, _it’s grown back_. Eren will be forever perfect, and Jean’s seventeen and his joints are wearing out. He feels like he’s trapped inside an old man’s body, the way his knees crack when he kneels, the way the pain in his back keeps him awake at night. At night, he lies awake cataloguing his aches whilst Eren sleeps next to him, peaceful and whole, sleeping the sleep of the undamaged.

Jean fucks Eren hard enough to leave bruises, and watches impassively as they fade before his eyes. Eren likes to be choked, slapped, hurt. So Jean does whatever Eren wants to him, and they’re fighting in and out of the bedroom now, but Eren’s grinning with Jean’s fingers locked around his throat, thumbs pressed into his windpipe. The bruises and bite marks heal, and Jean can’t remember the last time he grinned.

He supposes it’s survivors guilt that draws Eren to wanting to be hurt. Jean recognises it well enough, he of all people should. The truth is, they’re both fucked up, but Jean’s dealing with it a lot better than Eren is. Eren’s the one who gets to live from injuries which would have killed anyone else. He’s the one who sits healing himself on the battlefield whilst listening to the screams of those trying to be saved. Eren can’t even meet Commander Erwin’s eye anymore, not since he lost his arm. Eren’s brimming with guilt, but Jean’s just resigned.

Jean could be dead in a week, in a month, in a year. If a titan doesn't get him, it’ll be illness or infection. It feels stupid doing anything anymore. He watches Sasha learn to knit, Armin read his books, Mikasa watch Eren with the same eagle-eyed stare that Jean watches him with too. Pointless pursuits to amuse themselves before they die. When Jean looks into the future, all he sees is his death. It’s not probable he’s going to die young, it’s certain. He looks at Eren, shining and handsome and whole, so solidly healthy, and Jean can’t imagine how someone that strong could ever die. 

“You’ll outlive us all.” He mutters into Eren’s hair, late at night when everyone is faking sleep in their bunks. He’s reminded of pulling Eren out of his titan body when they lie like this, Eren sprawled across Jean’s chest like they’re just normal teenagers destined for dates to the city and boring jobs. Like they’re not both fucked up beyond repair by now. It’s Pavlovian, the way Jean feels the slow burn of tears behind his eyes.

Eren punches him in the side in response, right on his most recent broken rib, and Jean sucks in a breath and holds it to stop from crying out. He doesn't want to show how broken down he is to Eren. He’s terrified of Eren becoming bored with his constant pain. It’s like a wave ebbing at the back of his mind. He can only push it down so much, and it’s worst like this, when they’re quiet and still with nothing to occupy his mind. 

“You’re not going to die.” Eren mutters into the darkness, because he’s the most stubborn bastard Jean’s ever met. Infinitely stupid. Blind. He lets the topic drop, and listens to Eren’s breathing until it evens out and he can feel it warm against the hollow of his throat. Eren’s heart is beating strong and confident against Jean’s chest, and Jean thinks that if it wasn't for moments like this, he’d have been dead a long time ago.

**Author's Note:**

> [uncomfortable muttering] i dunno i had some emotions


End file.
